Page:Flying Death.pdf/97

 gazed at her with the same absent-minded, haunting stare which she answered with a smile of her lips; not of her eyes.

A servant circulated a tray of cocktails to which the girls helped themselves. The pilots, each in his turn, referred to Bane who shook his head and none of them touched a glass. Nor did Pete nor I. If they preferred clear wits for the afternoon, so did we.

"Come to the table," Bane commanded and everybody obeyed.